My wife called me a couple of minutes after I sat down
in the waiting room and we talked for another couple of minutes until I was
called to the triage room. I told her that I did not understand the reason that
we had not been taken back immediately, but at least I was at the hospital if
something bad happened. She was as frustrated as I was when I told her that I was
asked to have a seat with a child that just had three seizures and a fever of 104
degrees plus.
When they
called my name to come back, I had the kids' paperwork, my XOOM tablet and the
two year old in my arms while talking on the phone to my wife and it was a
struggle to get up. I was in such a hurry that I pulled the phone away from my
ear and scooped the two year old off my lap with my arm under her diaper and
the phone extended out in front cradled by my hand. I never hung up. When I
made it back to the triage room many questions were asked and the phone was
still connected to my wife’s call as I answered them the best I could. A couple
of minutes later I brought the phone back up to my ear and told my wife that I
would have to call her back.
After making
it to the room and laying the child on the one of the two beds inside it I began
to text my wife. There was a woman having a great deal of pain in the other
bed. The atmosphere in the room was silent with whisperings emitting from
behind the curtain that separated the two beds in the room. I could make it out
and listened while texting information to Tammy. I know that it is rude to eavesdrop, but I am always afraid they are going to place me next to a psychotic person
in one of these rooms. I listen to be aware of my surroundings.
A doctor
comes into the room, but walks to the other bed where the woman lies in pain talking
to another girl. I hear them talk about a miscarriage and my heart sinks and I
feel the need to tell her I am sorry. I do not offer this condolence as I feel
it may be pushing the boundaries of privacy. My
heart goes to her in silence as I think of my own struggles in conceiving children.
I text the information to my wife.
My daughter
is starting to act as if nothing had happened about ten minutes after lying in
the hospital bed. She begins to laugh at the movie that is playing and talks to me
about it. A few minutes later, a nurse enters the room to speak with me. I
go over the story of why we are here and she has Motrin administered to further
bring down the fever that is still around 102 degrees. She leaves after telling
me that she will be back to check the fever and that the doctor will be with us
as soon as they can.
As always,
when waiting in a bed at the E.R. the financial department comes by asking for
updated information and verifying insurance of a means of payment. I have the
information for my daughter which gives us sole power to sign documentation for
the child to be treated anywhere that accepts their insurance (that had better
be ANY emergency room). I give her this paperwork so she can go and make a copy
of it, but she returns and asks if the CPS worker is with me to sign. I tell
her that my wife and I are the legal guardians and CPS is not required as we
have been licensed with the state of Arizona for this reason. I tell her that
the last time we were at this institution the same thing happened and it became
a long drawn out ordeal that ended with the result that we are able to sign the
documentation. She looks at me with doubt and says that she does not think
that this is correct. I am controlling my temper as I want to fly off the handle
deep down and tell her to get her uneducated carcass out of the room and send
in someone that is helpful. I do not, but I should be talking to the patient
advocate or something. This is ridiculous! What the hell is wrong with these
people? Do they think we have to call
CPS to come out every time the kids need to take a crap? I wish someone could be properly
trained to know that we are the people responsible for the children we have in
our home. We have the proper paperwork and did not have any trouble attaining a
pediatrician, dentist, and an eye doctor with this same information I am
displaying here. It would eliminate the added stress when there is already much
of it to go around when dealing with finances at the hospital.
I can tell
that the woman wants me to call CPS which I am not going to do even though I
have the case workers number. I tell her to go back and relay the information
to her supervisor because she is wrong. She is now trying as I am to control
the tension rising between us. She leaves and returns only to tell me that I am
right and they made a mistake. Really? I mean I couldn’t possibly be more
educated than the person telling me I am wrong in this case. She has thrown out
the other paperwork because she figured she had it right so I resign a new form
and do not have to see her again, much to my pleasure.
I text the
information to my wife as the paper-pusher leaves the room after I have explained
that she is wrong. Tammy is pissed. She reiterates the occurrence of this the
last time and cannot believe that I am dealing with it again. She feels badly
that she cannot be here with me, but it is better not to subject the other
children to sickness. I tell her I am fine and that she is already giving me
the support I need, through her communications on the phone.
You never
know how long you will be waiting in the E.R. because worse illness can occur
causing the act of triage to take the doctor away from other, less worrisome
ailments. It must have been an hour before the doctor came in to our room, and
after checking out my daughter who was now happy as a clam and becoming sleepy, said that she was sending her home with medicine to control the fever. Even
though the medicine is available over the counter, I ask for prescriptions so we
do not have to pay for them. We have spent a lot of money because of illness up
to this date and any chance to get it for free through the children’s insurance
I need to take advantage of. The discharge instructions are to see our
pediatrician the next morning, which is Monday.
The entire
ordeal at the E.R. is over in three and a half hours which is relatively not
bad. I pick up my daughter and walk down the hallway exiting the back of the emergency
room and entering the waiting room where it is a quick turn to the left and
then right after 75’ or so past many individuals that stare as they mull over
in their mind the racial difference in me and my daughter. It happens
everywhere we go. We head out the front door and walk across the asphalt to my
work truck. The nightmare is over, as I put this sleepy child into her car seat, smile at her, and ask if she is ready to go home. Of course her reply is "yes" with a smile, and I shut the door.
End of Part II and the Trip to Mt. Lemmon Storyline
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